by Lily Kate
“Margaret, it’s not like—”
“Am I supposed to just pretend you’re not prepared to fight tooth and nail to drive the Lilac Inn to the ground?”
“The hell that’s what I’m doing!” Tyler says. “I didn’t come here to ruin you, or to ruin anything. If you’re a businesswoman, as I expected, you’d understand that.”
“I understand perfectly, Tyler. It doesn’t mean I have to sleep with the enemy.”
“I’m not the enemy! We can both have businesses that coexist in the same town. It happens everywhere. If I don’t move in here, someone else will do it, and they won’t give a flying fuck about your inn. At least I care.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, my voice rising. “And what happens if I fall in love with you?”
Tyler blinks, steps back. “What if...”
“What happens,” I say, stepping closer, my voice cutting to a whisper, “if I fall in love with you?”
“I’m begging you to try.” His voice is rough around the edges, raw. “I won’t leave you again. I never promised anything back then. This time, I’m promising.” He closes the distance between us, his large hands taking my face fully between them. “Do you trust me?”
His touch is the gentlest I’ve known, the most tender and sweet. I want him to touch only me, forever. “I don’t know.”
“Give me a chance,” he says, easing forward, circling his hands lower until they’re pressed to my back, and he’s pulling me into him. “Give me time. A month. If you don’t like where things are going, I’ll leave.”
“And if I do?”
“You’ll marry me,” he says, firm. “I know what I want, and I’ve waited long enough to get it.”
“And what happens if you run us out of business?”
“That’s not going to happen, and we both know it,” he says, his eyes darkening. “The Lilac Inn can’t be replicated. I know that now, after seeing it. Even if we build here, it won’t end you.”
“Tyler—”
“It’s just business, Margaret. It has nothing to do with our relationship.”
“My business is my life—the inn is my home, my friends here are family. I can’t separate the two.”
“Do you want me to tell them to stop?” He seems to genuinely be curious.
“I—” On one hand, I want to demand he stop whatever he’s planning, but I don’t. I have too much pride for that. “No. Do whatever you want here...it’s just business.”
“Where does that leave us?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
“Give me the month, Margaret. If you don’t want me around after that, say the word, and we’ll be gone. You have my word.”
I blink back a sting in my eyes. “And what if that’s not what I want?”
He leans in, his lips centimeters from mine. “Then, you’ll marry me.”
“But—”
“Please,” he murmurs, pain flickering through his gaze. “Give me a chance.”
My returning answer is a kiss. A touch of the lips that signs an unspoken treaty between us. After today, the only thing that’s certain is that I need to try.
It might be the stupidest decision I’ll ever make, but I’m powerless to say no. If I say no, I’ll continue wondering what might have been, forever. My desire to play out the what if’s with Tyler Daniels vastly outweighs my concerns about his business. The Lilac Inn can stand competition. My heart? That’s what I’m worried about.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs into my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”
The intensity in which he kisses me next drives us together, pushing away any lingering doubt, any fear that’s been pressing me to stay away.
This is the adventure I’ve been dying to take, regardless of the consequences.
So, I take with an intensity, a selfishness that’s uncommon for me. I take with wild abandon, with such thoroughness that I know if he leaves, I will break so chaotically that recovery will be a near-unattainable glow on the horizon.
But I need to do this one thing...for me.
Chapter 19
TYLER
I can see the second she breaks. The moment she snaps with a decision. The second she hurtles herself from the plane, praying her parachute opens and suspends her from a rocky, tumultuous landing.
I am that parachute. As her hands fall on mine and her lips tease searching, soulful kisses, I’m fully aware how much this means to her. Everything leading up to this was an unwritten trial, and everything that follows will be, too. A test to see if I’m worthy of her and Mila, a test to see if I’ve meant what I’ve said. A test to see if I can love her as much as she’s fearful of loving me.
Well, the answer is an easy one.
I love her more than that. I know that, somehow, without proof. Without evidence, without any sign of logical thought—it’s as if my entire being, every particle from which I’m made joins against hers as we tumble into the bedroom and onto the mattress.
I intend to ask her if she’s sure, but I can’t form the words. I’m too terrified it’ll shatter the illusion and send us spiraling to our own corners of the room.
Instead, I close my eyes. I focus on the way her hands grip and pull, caress and search, ease and comfort. When her fingernails dig into my shoulders, my eyes clench shut, searing everything about this into my memory.
Ironically, she doesn’t seem the least bit afraid. I’m the one scared shitless today; I’m terrified something will shake her resolve. The two of us don’t make sense together—we never have. We just are, and I intend to prove it.
Once the initial shock of the moment has passed, I pull myself out of a haze and study her. I have her pinned against her bed, her cheeks pink with exertion as she stares up at me with gleaming eyes.
She tilts her head with curiosity. “What were you thinking about?”
“I was—”
“Actually—” she holds up a finger, interrupting— “I don’t want to know. Don’t talk.”
I laugh as my hands reach for the straps of her dress, toying with them as I feel the smoothness of her skin beneath. “I’m only going to ask this once. Are you sure you want to do this? We can wait.”
Her voice is small, but confident. “If we’re going to do this, I’m not going to hold back. A month?”
“A month.”
“Then Tyler, yes. Make me forget why we shouldn’t be together.”
Her name on my lips sets off a fury inside me, a pleasant buzz of adrenaline that sends the rest of me spiraling out of control. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, aching with need as I slide my hand under the hem of her dress, easing it up her pale thighs and resting it on her stomach. “I can’t do that.”
“But—” she argues as my finger toys with the lace thong she’s wearing. “Tyler...”
Her eyes close as she sinks away from her response. I run a finger over her, hissing when I feel just how ready she is. Her arguments turn into little moans of encouragement, sounds that drive me wild as she bucks her hips upward. I take my time, teasing and playing, until those little moans turn into a demand and her fingers reach toward me.
I dip my finger gently inside of her, watching her face as the first touch nearly sends her writhing in bliss. “How long has it been since...” I trail off as her eyes close and her head falls back.
“Not since Mila,” she gasps. “Priorities, you know how it goes.”
My eyes must explode at her answer because she stills for a moment, watching me with a hunger in her eyes.
“Don’t give me that look,” she snaps. “I’ve been busy.”
I can’t help but laugh, while simultaneously wondering how the hell she’s gone six years without sex. Six years. Almost seven, if...I push the calculations away and focus on the woman before me.
With a new sense of focus, I snap her panties off, tearing them at the seams.
“Those were expensive,” she mutters.
“And they were for me,” I tell her. “Don’t d
eny it.”
I press my mouth against hers, swallowing her arguments. It’s an easier, and infinitely more enjoyable, way to end a conversation. I can only focus on one thing at a time, and I plan on focusing on her.
She sinks back into hot lava, malleable in my arms as I ease another finger in, gentle, testing the waters. It’s been so long for her, and I can sense this experience is almost new. Exploratory. She’s so intensely in tune with every one of my motions, soaking in every touch, every breath, as if this is her first time.
“Is this...” I hesitate, my breath coming in a whisper against her ear. “In college, we...”
“Tyler. Is now really the time to discuss this?” Her hips arch toward me, demanding more from my hand as she tugs at the waistband of my pants. “I finally fall into bed with you, and now you want to talk?”
“I’m just trying to understand...if your first time was with me, and then you didn’t stay with Mila’s father, and—”
“Yes. I’ve been with two men—you’re one of them. Are you happy?”
My chest constricts at the thought. “But—”
“Are you trying to ruin this before we start?”
“God, no! I’m trying to...to understand,” I murmur. “I’m surprised—you’re beautiful, Margaret. You could have anyone you wanted.”
“I didn’t need anyone,” she snaps. “Can you stop talking before I change my mind about this? Please?”
I laugh again, amused by how much fun I’m having. Sex for me has always been a basic need. An itch to scratch, if you will. When we were young, I was clueless—this time, things are different. I wouldn’t call myself a playboy, but I’ve had relationships—brief, physical ones—in New York. Like I said, an itch to scratch, nothing more.
Though I’m always polite when it comes to sex, making sure the woman finishes before I do, I’ve never felt so fully invested in their satisfaction. If anything, today, I’m too consumed by the needs of Maggie to even remember mine. As if her pleasure is linked to mine, and only once she’s weak with bliss will I be satisfied.
“What did you mean before?” Maggie whispers now, clinging to me as I ease my body against hers. “You said you can’t make me forget why we shouldn’t be together.”
I kick my pants off and align my body with hers, chest to chest, as my arousal presses against her through my boxers. “I meant,” I say, offering a necklace of kisses to her collarbone. “That I can’t think of a single reason we shouldn’t be together.”
“Well, there’s the fact—”
“So,” I interrupt, harshly. “I will one up you.”
“Mmm?”
My fingers have found her again, and she’s putty in my arms, almost humming with pleasure. “I will show you all the reasons we belong together.”
“Oh, Tyler...”
Her words dissolve into nothingness as I ease lower, brushing her dress to the side as my mouth finds her. She tastes heavenly, delectable, and I kiss her with every intention to never stop. To not stop until she shatters in my arms and rests there, letting me piece her back together.
When her nails dig into my hair, I’m set to explode. I’m straining so thoroughly at my boxers I’m surprised I haven’t punctured a hole in them yet. And still, I’m so focused on Maggie’s reactions that I barely notice.
To focus on her is to focus on myself, I realize with a jolt. To bring her happiness will set my stars in alignment, will put a bounce in my step and a lightness inside of me that hasn’t been seen in years. She is everything I need.
My next kiss between her thighs does the trick. She lets out a cry that has me wondering if reception can hear. I guide her through every wave of her climax, gritting my resolve not to bury myself in her and steal some of the pleasure for myself.
But when Margaret finishes, shuddering, and whispers my name, I’m complete.
I pull her through the last of the tremors, rolling her onto her side and holding her in my arms as she settles back to earth. She’s limp all over and breathing heavily, and I can’t help the rising sense of satisfaction. Of knowing that I put the look of ecstasy on her face. Knowing that when she murmured a name—it was mine.
“I hope you know,” I whisper into her ear. “Now that I’ve heard you say my name like that, I’m dead set on making it the last name you ever say in bed. Forever.”
She shivers against me. “That’s a big statement.”
“I mean it.”
Turning to face me, she spends the next few minutes looking into my face. I’m not sure what she’s searching for, but she seems to find everything there fascinating. In return, I study her. I trace the curves of her eyebrows and run my hand through her hair. Meanwhile, her fingers cascade around the lines of my jaw, as if she’s painting this image to last. Cementing it into her mind.
Easing onto my elbows, I look into her eyes. “I will prove to you, no matter how long it takes, that we have every reason to be together.”
Her eyes swim with tears.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?”
She pulls me close, her lips against mine. She presses for me to give her more, to give her everything this time, but I hold back. Again, it’s about her—for now. My next motion silences her arguments, and from there on out, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathless pants until she calls my name again.
Chapter 20
MAGGIE
I’m not sure how long we stayed in bed. It must’ve been the entire afternoon, but I can’t say for certain. The whole thing seemed like a dream, an alternate reality in which I’d become some sort of sex machine worshipped by none other than the likes of Tyler Daniels.
Who happened to be a sex god himself.
Even though we never actually had sex. Technically.
I blush at myself, standing in my bathroom, as I struggle to make myself presentable in time to pick Mila up from school. I’m not sure I’ll ever know what came over me today, but I do know it wasn’t Margaret Marshall of Harp’s Haven in bed earlier.
Margaret Marshall wears yoga pants and a messy bun. Her love life consists of romance novels and battery powered assistance. Margaret Marshall is a mother, a career woman, the breadwinner and bed maker and hand-wiper and chauffeur to Mila Marshall.
Margaret Marshall was not the woman in that bedroom. That was...I blush again, reminiscing about one orgasm after the next. I’d lost count at some point. Three blurred into four, and was there a fifth? Not that it matters. The only thing that matters now is the fact that my legs are jelly and my heart is pounding. And the fact that Tyler Daniels probably thinks I’m a nut.
This afternoon, I’d turned into someone else. Maggie-the-banshee. I must have cried out from Tyler’s touches a dozen times. I remember begging, I think I growled at him, and I definitely made some demands. Possibly a few dozen threats against his life, trying to convince him to stop being so damn selfless and let me give him the same pleasure he’d given me.
I’d tried to touch him, to take him, to return the feelings he’d given me, but he’d been firm in his denials. If I hadn’t gotten so limp with bliss, I might’ve fought back a little harder, but I’d been powerless to him. Mentally, physically, blissfully powerless.
He’d given selflessly, looking satisfied only once I begged him to give me rest with a pleasant little whimper. Only then did he curl against me and, together, we drifted off to sleep.
Now I’m stuck trying to make myself look less like a sex goddess. Apparently, my hair’s not cooperating, and there’s a new permanent flush on my cheeks. I know the second I walk out of here, Emily’s going to know. Luca and Jax, too, if they’re around. It’s not that I care, it’s just...I have to pick my daughter up. I have to put this afternoon out of my mind, slip back into my yoga pants, and turn on the mom.
Easing out of the bathroom, I’m painfully aware that my former undies are strewn haphazardly over the trash bin. I remind myself to snatch them up before I leave so Lelia doesn’t get any sur
prises when she comes to clean tomorrow.
There’s a new soreness between my legs, a pleasant one, and a satisfaction I can feel all the way to my bones. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thoroughly sexed. Then again, I don’t have a huge resume in that regard, so it’s unsurprising.
Tyler lets out a low whistle as I appear beside the bed. “Are you sure we can’t get Emily to pick up the girls?”
I give him a suggestive glance, but I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s possible to get anything more from me today. But, if you wanted to change your mind about having a turn...?”
I ease over to the bed, realizing that the whole sex goddess act isn’t entirely gone as I run my hand up his length and meet his gaze.
He sucks in a sharp breath, closes his eyes, and is temporarily rendered speechless.
“I guarantee you’d like it.” I tease, winking at him when his eyes flash open. “Or your money back.” At his expression, I laugh. “I’m kidding. Let me return the favor, Ty.”
“Ty,” he murmurs. “Haven’t heard that one in years.”
My hand grips him, and I can’t think of a response. He’s larger than I remember, so big and strong all over, and for a brief moment, I wonder how it’ll work. If he’ll actually fit inside of me. I’m obviously a little out of practice.
“It’ll work,” he groans, as if reading my mind. He’s watching my face, my amazement as I stroke him. “Believe me, honey. I’m counting down the days until I get you alone again.”
“Days?!” There’s a horror in my voice that makes him laugh. I can’t seem to shake the fog though, and all I can do is repeat myself. “Days?”
In a flash, he’s pulled me onto the bed, situating me over his lap. His length teases me, presses against the bare skin underneath my dress, and I let out a sizzle as I imagine pulling his boxers down and sliding onto him.
Bliss. That’s the only thing on my mind.
Until responsibility kicks in.
“The girls, school,” I moan. “I need...”
